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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361864">Sickchester Vol. 4</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137'>Pineprin137</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sickchester: The Complete Collection [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brotherly Affection, Camping, Camping Trip From Hell, Caring Jody Mills, Caring John Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Choking, Common Cold, Dean Winchester Whump, Fever, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Gross, Headaches &amp; Migraines, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Influenza, John Winchester Not Being an Asshole, Messy, Middle School, Not totally anyway..., Parental Jody Mills, Platonic Relationships, RIP Jody's Coffee Table, Sick Character, Sick Claire Novak, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Squick, Stomach Ache, Teenchesters, Vomiting, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, it's brief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:09:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters can't catch a break. This time, Dean and Sam both get sick. </p><p>Featuring a couple of appearances by Jody Mills.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; John Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Jody Mills &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, John Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sickchester: The Complete Collection [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. School</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part Four! It's a bit shorter than the others, but the chapters are also pretty long so I decided to go ahead and post it. </p><p>Hope y'all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Winchesters had been through hell in the last week. John had finished up a troubling case involving a haunted classroom in which the ghosts of the children who died in a fire back in eighty-three were possessing the current students. Of course, being around all those kids, the germs had spread mercilessly, leaving the patriarch sick for three days. Now that he was feeling better, he’d moved the boys into a cabin outside of Cheyenne so he could work a case on a nearby ranch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the last month, several animals had been slaughtered gruesomely, throats torn out, entrails pulled from the body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John banged his fist on the closed bathroom door. Dean had been in there for almost twenty minutes.  “We’re heading out in five. Be in the car.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grimacing, Dean slowly pulled himself up off the bathroom floor. His stomach felt absolutely awful. He’d been sitting there, feeling nauseous, for at least fifteen minutes, but had squat to show for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After splashing some water on his face and taking another swig of pink chalky liquid, he walked down the hall to grab his backpack. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking half-asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean reached out, pressed the back of his hand to his brother’s forehead-- the kid was burning up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy? Hey, wake up, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Dean? What’re you doin’ in my room…?” Sam asked, looking around, confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean frowned at him. “This is my room, dude. Yours is across the hall.” It was rare that they stayed anywhere with more than two bedrooms, but this one hit the jackpot-- it had </span>
  <em>
    <span>four</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feeling okay?” he asked when Sam wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. Just the image of snot on his brother’s hand had Dean swallowing hard against a surge of nausea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged. “Not really.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re your symptoms?” Dean said, ready to diagnose the ailment so he could get some medicine into his brother before they left for school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, my nose is runnin’, I can’t breath, my head feels like it’s gonna explode…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a sinus cold. I’ll check to see if we have anything that’ll work on that. Go get in the car-- Dad’s waiting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Sam slid off the bed then slipped past Dean, heading to the front door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean quickly dug through the medkit Dad left on the bathroom sink to see what he could find. Near the bottom of the bag, he unearthed a dented box of cold and flu meds. It didn’t mention sinus pressure, but it had a fever reducer and pain relief which should help until he could go to the store after school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was walking past the kitchen table, checking to make sure he had everything he needed in his bag when a cold sweat suddenly started up at the back of his neck. Dean’s eyes widened as he veered toward the metal sink. He focused on breathing through his nose as he rested one hand on his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerked forward with a gag but gritted his teeth against it. He couldn’t be sick now, Sammy needed him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John strode back into the room, spotting his eldest by the kitchen table. “Dean, when I say we’re leaving in five, I mean your ass better be in that car and ready to pull out in five minutes. What’re you still doing in here?” he asked sternly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swallowing down sour bile, Dean nodded. “Sorry, sir. I-- forgot one of my books. I had to go back to get it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John sighed, disappointed. “Didn’t I tell you to get your stuff together last night?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. I thought I grabbed it out of the living room.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got it now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.” Dean grabbed his bag, followed his dad out the door then slid into the backseat. Because Sammy had found something in the lore that both Dad </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bobby had missed, he’d earned front-seat privileges for the next week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t really mind at the moment-- being in the back made it easier to hide how pale he was. Besides, without anyone watching him, he was able to rest his cheek against the cool window and burp softly into his fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mr. Winchester…Mr. Winchester?... Mr. Winchester!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam’s head slipped out of his cupped palm to hit the desk with a dull thud. “Huh?” he said, glancing around the room. Everyone was staring at him, including his teacher, Mr. Powell. He sniffled, shifted in his seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Powell gave him a hard look. “Now, I’m sorry if you find my class boring, Mr. Winchester, but I won’t tolerate you sleeping through it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sir,” Sam said, sniffling again. He wiped his sleeve under his nose then blushed when the girl next to him offered him the tissue box. “Oh, uh, thanks…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After blowing his nose and discovering his snot was now a bright green color-- Dean was rarely wrong-- Sam busied himself taking detailed notes even though he knew most of the information about the Civil War already. Dad had teamed up with a bunch of other hunters to take care of an old battleground haunting and Sam had learned a lot during their stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the school, Dean was struggling. He’d made it through Algebra and Government, but now, in Auto Shop, he was doubting he could make it to lunchtime. Luckily, it was hot in the garage so no one questioned the sweat stains on Dean’s tee-shirt, but each time he tried to lean over the engine compartment to get a better look at the radiator, his stomach threatened to spill last night’s dinner all over his partner, Jamie’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, he would be right up in there, practically cheek-to-cheek with Jamie, the only girl in the class and attractive to boot-- but with the way Dean felt today, he could barely muster the energy to participate let alone flirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sick burp worked its way up. Dean turned to blow the foul air out of the side of his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay over there?” Jamie asked him, glancing warily in his direction. She’d noticed how pale Dean was as soon as he walked in the door. Which is why she hadn’t pushed for him to be more involved in today’s lesson. Any other day, she’d jokingly call him a lazy ass, but she could tell he felt horrible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean felt something wet crawl up his throat and hovered a fist in front of his mouth. Jamie’s eyes widened, locked on him as Dean’s stomach contracted forcefully and his cheeks puffed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she realized he was going to be sick, Jamie panicked. She hastily backed away from him, shouting, “Shit! Don’t puke on me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever the gentleman, Dean made sure he didn’t. He dashed over to the trash can in the corner of the garage just in time. He felt the room’s eyes on him as his back arched. When he was able to raise his head after a good minute of non-stop spewing, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their instructor, Just-call-me-Dave Pearson, walked over. “Alright, Winchester, you’re done for today. Why don’t you head to the nurse’s office and I’ll have someone bring you your stuff after class.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Already feeling like he needed to be sick again, Dean nodded once then accepted the pass Dave handed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The garage wasn’t actually attached to the school so Dean had to walk across the back parking lot in order to get to the back doors of the school. From there, he would have about a five-minute walk across the building to get to the nurse’s office. He had to stop about midway to the doors to throw up again. Vomit splattered messily onto the asphalt as he held onto a lamppost and he was pretty sure some got on his boots, but Dean didn’t really care anymore. All he wanted to do was get to the nurse’s office so he could lie down. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sam entered the nurse’s office-- he’d fallen asleep in Geometry, and Mrs. Watkins didn’t offer second chances like Mr. Powell-- he grimaced. Someone was being loudly sick in the attached bathroom. Whoever it was, sounded like they were trying to retch up an organ. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurse wasn’t at her desk so Sam shuffled over to one of the beds, yawning. He sat down heavily, dropping his backpack on the floor beside it. His nose had finally stopped running before study hall, but now, it was stuffed up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sniffed trying to clear some of the gunk so he could breathe but only ended up adding to the intense pressure in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The toilet flushed behind the closed bathroom door. Sam laid down on his side. The sink turned on, the rushing water soothing Sam’s headache. With a heavy sigh, Sam tucked his feet close to his body then pulled his jacket tighter around his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch whatever they had…  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nurse walked in about the same time the bathroom door opened. She glanced between the two students with a frown, but her first patient was the one who spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sammy?” Dean said, frowning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam opened his eyes to see his brother walking over to the bed beside him. Dean’s jacket, backpack, and a grocery sack were sitting on it. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean sat down on the bed, one hand on his stomach. “Did the meds not help?” he asked his brother, gulping sickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged. “Maybe a little? I kept falling asleep so they sent me down here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Winchester,” the nurse said, handing a cup of something to Dean, “I called your father and he’s on his way, but I’m going to call him back to let him know that Sam’s with you as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She disappeared back down a hallway Sam hadn’t even realized was there when he walked in and they sat there in silence for a few minutes. Sam had closed his eyes and was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard Dean set the cup down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Sam asked, his eyes still closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unable to answer, Dean slapped a hand over his mouth before running back into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him but it didn’t do much to block out the sounds of his illness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was sometime later that Sam heard a voice calling his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sammy? Wake up, son.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Sam mumbled, peeling open his eyes to find his dad crouched beside his bed. “Dad?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s me. The nurse called to tell me about Dean. I’m here to take him home. What’s going on with you, huh?”John asked softly in a tone Sam had never heard him use with Dean.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He yawned before answering, “I kept falling asleep so they sent me here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John frowned. “You not getting enough sleep, son?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not that,” Sam said, sitting up. He felt lightheaded for a few seconds-- John noticed him sway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just congested? Or is your stomach bothering you too?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, no. My stomach’s fine. My head just feels kinda fuzzy and uh, big?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John nodded as Dean re-entered the room. “We’ll stop by the drugstore to get something for your head,” he said before walking over to Dean. The sick teen did his best to straighten up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna be okay to get in the car?” John asked him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...yes, sir…” Dean said tiredly. He was completely wrung out. His entire body hurt from puking and his stomach still felt off. He would give his left nut to collapse onto a bed and sleep till noon tomorrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John must not have been convinced because he turned to the nurse, giving her his patented John Winchester I-need-something-from-you smile, “You wouldn’t happen to have a trash bag or something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She only hesitated for a moment before nodding and leading him over to the cupboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean trudged over to Sam, sat down beside him. Sam immediately leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder. Perfectly content to not move for the foreseeable future, Dean wrapped his arm around him, resting his cheek on his little brother’s head.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When John came back over armed with supplies to protect the Impala’s interior, both boys were fast asleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Jody</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jody watched, horrified, as whatever the hell Dean Winchester had eaten in the last two days splashed onto her living room carpet. He barely managed a breath before another fountain of disgustingly thick vomit sprayed the coffee table. The tv show they’d just started continued playing in the background, but Jody was too stunned to think to turn it off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam, not quite as horrified as Jody, but still very concerned, turned to the Sheriff. “Could you grab him something, Jody? I fully intend to get him to the bathroom, but I don’t think it would be wise to move him until he’s uh, done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody didn’t register Sam’s words. She was too busy watching Dean. The amount of vomit coming out of the hunter was impressive, if revolting. It was like a massive pile-up, even though it was gruesome, you just couldn’t look away… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jody!” Sam called out sharply, trying to get the Sheriff’s attention. Dean hated to get sick in front of other people and Jody had never even seen either of them with so much as a runny nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desperate to save a least a little of his brother’s dignity, Sam leaned into her line of sight. “JODY!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, that snapped her out of it. She shot off the couch, running in the direction of the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a large punch bowl, which she handed to Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“S-Sammy?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean’s voice was so quiet it took Sam a minute to figure out his brother was the one who spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Sam said, helping Dean off of the couch. He cringed when the liquid that had gathered in Dean’s lap sluiced onto the floor. “Easy… I gotcha, just lean into me…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded, his throat working. Sam hastily guided him down the hall and into the bathroom, depositing Dean in front of the toilet bowl before he pulled Dean’s shirt off. He chucked it into the bathtub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he felt awful leaving Jody with clean-up, Sam knew his brother needed him right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud gurgle echoed in the room. Dean leaned forward, both forearms braced on the toilet seat. Sam held him steady as the next wave began. Dean’s back moved sickeningly beneath his hand, but Sam swallowed his revulsion. Dean had taken care of him through countless nights spent puking from stomach bugs or slightly-expired food and never once had he been grossed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey--don’t fight it, man. Let it out,” Sam said sternly when Dean pitched forward but nothing came out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean made a sort of raspy barking sound that worried Sam enough that he risked taking a look at his brother’s face. His panic shot through the roof when he saw how red Dean’s face was. His eyes were clenched shut as he fruitlessly tried to cough up whatever was stuck in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, Dean--I’m gonna help you!” he shouted, positioning his hand on Dean’s back. It took several strong slaps before whatever it was came loose. Chunkier vomit tumbled out of Dean’s mouth, splashing noisily into the dirty water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, Jody would tell Sam he and Dean had only been in the bathroom for about half an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. Seemingly endless waves of foul liquid violenting erupting from his brother until finally, Dean collapsed across the toilet seat, completely drained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam could hear him panting harshly as he fought to catch his breath. Not even having enough energy to spit the dregs of sickness from his mouth, his brother looked very grateful to see the cup of water he had fetched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cupping the back of Dean’s head, Sam carefully raised the glass to his lips. “You don’t have to drink any yet-- just rinse your mouth, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded to show he understood. Sam tipped the cup until the water trickled down into his brother’s mouth, then moved it away so Dean could spit. “Again?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time though, Dean shook his head. Sam frowned, but obliged, setting the cup on the counter before crouching behind him. He flushed the toilet then gathered his big brother against his chest as he rose back up. Dean leaned heavily on him, his head resting against Sam’s collarbone. Sam laid the toilet seat down, then the lid so he could settle Dean on it. He needed to get his brother’s pants off before they attempted to walk across the hall to the guest bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold onto my shoulders,” he instructed, wrapping one hand around Dean’s waist. “I need to get your jeans off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the perfect opportunity for some snarky innuendo, but Dean didn’t say a word. He just placed his hands as he’d been directed then held on as tightly as he could while Sam finagled his jeans off. He tossed them into the tub on top of Dean’s soiled shirt, then helped his brother up once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to take this nice and slow, okay? Just lean into me--I gotcha.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they entered the bedroom, Sam noticed Jody had already set it up for them. There was a towel on one side of the queen bed as well as the punch bowl, which had been thoroughly cleaned, sitting on the nightstand. Two green duffels sat on the floor near the rocking chair beside the bed. While laying Dean down on the bed, Sam also saw two glasses of water, a bottle of tension headache relief, and a stack of washcloths. Jody really had thought of everything…  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had just sat down in the rocking chair when Jody poked her head around the corner. Seeing that everyone was somewhat decent-- Dean was underneath the covers, Sam still had on his jeans and tee-shirt, though he’d removed his overshirt and boots--she knocked on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s he doing?” she asked quietly when Sam joined her in the hallway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s pretty out of it-- hopefully, will sleep for a few hours at least,” he said, pausing to run a hand through his hair. “Jody…I’m sorry about--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody smiled softly, leaning forward to cup his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize, Sam. It’s obvious that no one could’ve predicted </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the living room. “Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> notice any signs before he...exploded? Because I sure as hell didn’t.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shook his head. “No. He acted normal all day. And believe me, I’ve been around my brother when he’s sick enough to recognize even the smallest hint of major disaster impending.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I was afraid of--” Josy said, shaking her head. “Poor guy…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stood there in the hallway silently for a few minutes, Sam wondering if he could actually fall asleep in the rocking chair or if he should just bite the bullet and risk sleeping next to Dean on the bed. Jody tried very hard not to think about the copious amounts of Winchester-brand sick that had soaked into her carpet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she spoke. “Well, you boys are welcome to stay as long as you need.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Jody, but I’m pretty sure as soon as he’s able, Dean’s going to want to head out. He gets super bitchy when he’s sick-- not to mention he’ll be embarrassed as hell when he realizes what happened.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jody smiled, placing a hand on his arm. “Regardless, the offer still stands.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam stooped to give her a brief, yet firm hug then disappeared back into the guest room to watch over his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure, the Winchesters always arrived with a side-helping of capital-T Trouble, but Jody couldn’t find it in her to mind. They’d done so much for her, been there for her when no one else could be. If they needed to stop by for a lazy afternoon spent watching rom-coms </span>
  <span>on Netflix or crash while feeling sick, she was happy to help. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Camping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean knew going camping was a bad idea. Nothing good ever comes from sleeping in a flimsy canvas tent on cold hard ground. But he here is sleeping next to his brother while Jody and the girls sleep in a second tent nearby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As another cramp rolls through his abdomen he silently curses his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the reason they are camping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the one to answer the sheriff’s call and agree to an impromptu visit to the woods. According to his brother, Jody sounded desperate. She wanted to bond with the girls and since Claire and Alex are both familiar with the brothers, Jody thought it would be a great idea to invite two emotionally stunted, borderline PTSD hunters along on a traipse through the wilderness.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nevermind </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fact that none of them have been camping in years. Or that Sam and Dean are currently in the middle of yet another world-ending crisis. No, the second Sam heard the distress in Jody’s voice, he agreed… </span>
  <em>
    <span>without asking Dean.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hasn’t been too bad so far... Other than an unexpected Summer rain earlier this afternoon and a little trouble finding a suitable spot that wouldn’t trigger anyone’s kill-first-ask-questions-later survival instincts, Dean will admit it’s been kind of… pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until tonight, that is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Dean wasn’t home during the initial call between Jody and Sam, he hadn’t been involved in the planning of this little excursion. Of course, he could have asked for details or given his input later on, but by then, he was too busy giving Sammy the silent treatment for agreeing in the first place. But when Jody pulled out a container of homemade chili to heat up on the camp stove a few hours ago, Dean instantly regretted that decision.  Although chili had worked its way into history books as a camping staple for cowboys on the open plains, Dean learned early on that it wasn’t really a good idea to indulge in something quite so… loaded while being stuck in the middle of nowhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one, the flavor never turned out just right, it always tasted a little metallic. And B, the ingredients--although tasty-- were the perfect combination for causing a plethora of digestive problems. Which wouldn’t be a big deal-- if say, they were in a motel room instead of out here in Bumfuck, South Dakota. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing Dean broke his vow of silence to comment on had been the sleeping arrangements. For some reason, both Jody and his brother had this insane idea that they could all sleep in one large tent… together. He’d had no choice but to intervene, explaining they were nuts. Because there was no way in Hell he and Sam--both over six feet tall-- were going to be able to sleep in the same tent as two teenage girls and Jody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other thing about sharing a tent? Clothing was definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>optional.  Being early June, the temperature outside their canvas prison is hovering around eighty degrees. With the body heat of two full-grown dudes plus the need to be somewhat decent in case the girls needed them, that made the inside of the tent feel about fifteen degrees hotter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, if it’s just him and Sam, Dean would probably opt for a pair of breathable boxers or-- if it got hot enough (damn humidity in motel rooms could be ridiculous)-- he would strip completely and sleep in the buff. But as it is, neither of them feels comfortable sleeping in their underwear so they’re currently laid out on their sleeping bags in tee-shirts and jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desperate for some relief from the suffocating heat, Sam took his shoes off but Dean kept his on in case he couldn’t sleep and wanted to walk around a little-- A decision he is very grateful for as a loud gurgle interrupts his impromptu pity party.  With a pained wince, he decides he better get a move on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean has an oddly intense desire to brush Sam’s bangs off his face as he crawls over him to unzip the tent flap but resists the urge when something shifts in his gut. Instead, he snags his flashlight and the roll of TP sitting by the entrance then ventures out into the empty campsite. Wanting more than a little privacy, he makes his way through the trees. Though he makes sure it’s close enough to their campsite that he can hear if Sam calls for him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While searching for a suitable spot to empty his demanding bowels, Dean finds a tree with a few low hanging branches that he thinks will work just fine. Which is good, because his belly is making ominous sounds in between bouts of odorous gas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoving the roll of toilet paper on one of the branches, he slides his jeans and underwear down. It only takes a brief moment before his body gets with the program. One hand propping himself up against the rough bark of his chosen tree, Dean wishes he’d thought to bring earplugs so he wouldn’t have to listen to the disgusting sound of his shit splattering onto the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s explosive and disgusting. Dean adjusts his stance so he won’t get anything on his boots. He massages his cramping abdomen during the quiet moments, trying to coax everything out before he heads back to the campsite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it finally stops, Dean reaches up, grabs the roll of toilet tissue then begins the long, delicate process of cleaning his ass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet again, the older Winchester was the only one to think of bringing toilet paper on their little overnight trip. When Dean had realized this fact shortly after arriving, Dean barely managed to not wring his brother and the sheriff’s necks. Jody told him she assumed the campground would have bathrooms. Sam, under Dean’s accusatory glare, sheepishly admitted he forgot they may need it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After he cleans up, Dean carefully steps away from his mess then pulls his pants back up. He leaves them unbuttoned, though, to allow room for his still-bloated gut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, in his haste, Dean left the small shovel sitting near the treeline in his haste to get somewhere private so he has to settle for kicking some dirt over the soiled leaves and discarding the dirty tissue on top. He’ll come back in the morning to properly bury it, but for now, it will have to work.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walks back to the tent, Dean lets out a few quiet burps in hopes of settling his rather upset stomach. Thanks to his terrible indigestion, though, each one ushers up a little bit of spicy tomato-flavored bile. He spits to clear his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he enters the tent, Sam lifts his head. “Dean? You okay?” he asks, yawning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean shrugs, grimacing after burping up more chili after-taste. He swallows the residue back down, coughing when bitterness is left on his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam reaches over to grab his water bottle which he tosses to Dean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean takes a healthy swig of lukewarm water, then grimaces. “Fucking chili…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam winces in sympathy-- his belly doesn’t feel too great either. Crawling over to his bag, he pulls out a familiar pink bottle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Disbelieving, Dean snorts. “You brought Pepto on a camping trip?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugs, smirking when he hands the bottle over to him. “I had a feeling one of us might need it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded at him. “Thanks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam mirrors the gesture before resituating himself so he lays on his side, facing Dean. “Think you can sleep?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother drags a hand down his face, grimacing, “God, I hope so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><span>*</span> <span>*</span> <span>*</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As it turns out, Dean’s stomach wasn’t actually to blame for his emergency bathroom break. By the time he wakes up both Sam and Alex claim they feel ‘off’, and Claire has already gotten sick. Jody is the only one seemingly unaffected so they assume it must have been something in the chili. Jody hadn’t eaten as much as the rest of them, filling up on cornbread and coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In true Winchester fashion, Dean pushes his own misery aside in order to care for his little brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, just breathe, Sammy,” he soothes as sick chills wracked Sam’s body. Dean dabs his forehead with a damp cloth with one hand while rubbing his own aching stomach with the other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, it hurts…” Sam moans, curling over his cramping abdomen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know it does. Just try to relax.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean has to pause in his ministrations when a sick burp rises in his chest. Scrambling out of the tent, he only makes it a few feet away before he throws up. After he’s finished, he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth-- noticing the visible tremor as he does so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody, who was holding Claire’s hair back while the young girl gets sick on the other side of the campsite, calls out to the hunter, “How’re you guys doing in there?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean places his hands on his knees, coughing up a small mouthful of puke. Spitting into the disgusting puddle between his boots, he holds up his hand, touching the tip of his pointer finger to his thumb in an O.K. sign. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Aces,” he manages before gagging dryly. He cleans his mouth off again then stands up straight, a hand cradling his belly. “How about you guys?” He quickly glances around the campsite but doesn’t see a young brunette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Alex?” he says.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jody sighs, rubbing Claire’s back as she continues to heave. “She went off to the bathroom about ten minutes ago.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean burps wetly on his way back to the tent, pauses. He lifts his fist to his lips, waiting to see if he is going to be sick yet again, but after a moment his nausea thankfully fades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally registering what Jody said, Dean turns to her. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathroom</span>
  </em>
  <span> bathroom? Or in the trees?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sheriff helps Claire over to one of the lawn chairs. The usually feisty blonde curls up into a pathetic ball, clenching her eyes shut. It’s a bit unsettling to see her like that, so Dean keeps his eyes on Jody. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span> “Trees,” Jody says, handing Claire one of the bottles from their rapidly dwindling supply of water. “I’m pretty sure she didn’t  think she could make it to the actual bathroom...” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dean…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A hoarse plea came from inside the tent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody and Dean both look to the tent. She nods to him. “Go. I’ve got the girls.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean hesitates though every bone in his body wants to rush to his brother’s aide. “You sure?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m a mom, remember? Multi-tasking is my specialty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, just… call if you need anything. Okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean waits until Jody nods, then hurries back into the tent to take care of Sam. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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